Redemption
by Soloset
Summary: A Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR) fic that details the romance between the main character and Carth. Written mostly just so I can re-enjoy my favorite bits and maybe recreate some of the 'deleted scenes'. Warning: contains spoilers!
1. Descent

Disclaimer: I don't own Knights of the Old Republic, any of the established characters, or really even my nominally original character, Kirre Frost, as she's pretty much inferred from the text of KOTOR. I guess maybe I own the blanket, and possibly the sub's seatbelts.  
  
  
A/N: This is a slight reworking of the events under the ocean on Manaan. The party has traveled in search of the third Star Map, and already solved most of the side quests on Manaan. They still have to travel to Korriban, and still have yet to encounter the Leviathan.  
  
  
  


  
"The Star Map is under the ocean?" Carth's voice was incredulous. "And you expect us to find it?"

Kirre Frost scowled, the expression pulling her brows together and making her normally generous mouth look hard and pinched. "No, flyboy, I expect me to go find it.  The rest of you are staying here."

Carth caught her arm as she stalked past towards the submersible bay.  Jolee watched on with his usual impenetrable expression.

Kirre stared at Carth's hand as if it were a dead fish.  His jaw set, but he refused to remove it.  She'd been treating him like a hireling since they'd left Kashyyk, and he was sick of it.

"We're going with you, like it or not," he said firmly.

"Let me guess, you don't trust me out of your sight?" she snapped, shaking his hand off.  When he didn't deny it, she sighed.

"You can't take your blasters, you know," she pointed out, almost smugly.  "A stray shot might rupture the station's hull."

Eyes narrowed, he unfastened his blaster belt and handed it to the sub's guard.

"Whatever," Kirre said, an uncharacteristically juvenile response.  She didn't quite stomp over to the submersible, but there was definitely a lot of force in her step.

Carth caught himself staring after her and shook it off, directing his attention towards the submersible instead.  At least it could only get him killed.  The ship was actually quite the beauty, not up to the Ebon Hawk's standards, but sleek and well designed. 

Not exactly roomy, though, he thought as Kirre settled into the seat next to him, her thigh and shoulder pressed tightly against his.  When she reached over to fasten her seatbelt, her hand brushed his leg, and he couldn't help but start.

She pretended not to notice, but he could tell she had.  A quick glance showed her looking out the window of the cockpit, her mouth set in a grim line, and he wanted to kick himself. Good work, Onasi, he thought, you know she loathes you, and you have to go pushing things.

She was only a few inches shorter than he was, and the part of his mind not occupied with pre-dive checks noted appreciatively how well she seemed to fit against him.

Of course, he reminded himself, if he ever thought to act on that information, she'd probably cut him in half with her lightsaber and then spit on the pieces.  And it would serve him right, too, for trusting his anatomy to a Jedi.

"Jolee, you okay?" Kirre called back into the cargo hold, a tiny space just large enough for a couple of small crates. 

"No, but I doubt that means you'll call this hare-brained expedition off," came from the back, and Carth couldn't resist a grin. A glance over at the woman beside him showed a matching smile, and he quickly hid his behind a neutral expression.

The trip to the ocean floor was relatively uneventful, if quiet.  He didn't feel much like talking, and from the way she stared out the window at the ever darkening blue depths, he figured she didn't much want to talk to him.  He wondered if he should apologize, but then, he wasn't sure he had anything to apologize for.

The base was massive, a dark, silent series of permacrete bubbles linked by corridors that littered the sea floor near what looked like a slash of darkness in the earth.

The ship was programmed with the docking bay's coordinates, but he still had to compensate somewhat for the current and angle of descent.

"Just like piloting a skimmer in high winds," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.  Kirre didn't answer, and he risked a glance her way.  What he saw shocked him.

Her eyes were open wide, and glassy, her breathing shallow and her forehead beaded with sweat.  She looked absolutely terrified.  When someone who has faced down a rancor with a vibroblade looks terrified, he thought grimly, it's time to worry.

"Hey, Frost, are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

 She swallowed, hard, then finally nodded. "Just park this damn thing, will you?"  The tone of her voice indicated that she thought he was wasting attention better spent on parking.

 So much for needing his help, he thought, and, mouth set, maneuvered the sub into the docking bay.

As the transparent hatch slid back, the utter silence of the place rushed in.  Even the lapping of the water against the sides of the docking pool seemed somehow muted, and only the emergency lighting remained on, casting an eerie green glow across their surroundings.

Kirre leapt out of the sub and onto the station with an effortless grace.  Unbuckling his seatbelt, Carth followed at a more sedate pace, trying to work the kink out of his neck.

To his annoyance, Jolee, looking as fresh as if he'd just stepped off a luxury cruiser instead crawled out of a cramped cargo bay, was already examining the massive doors that led into the rest of the station.

Kirre went to work on the control panel, and after a moment the doors wooshed almost silently open.  A dark, man-sized shape hurtled into the bay and threw itself to the deck at Kirre's feet.

"Please don't kill me – wait, you're from the Republic? You must be, nobody else knows this place exists," the man babbled. Kirre flicked off her lightsaber.

"What happened here?" she asked tersely, and the man, who she could now see was wearing a tattered Republic uniform, fell over himself to explain.

"Two days ago - the scientists were drilling out in the rift." The man gulped, hard.  It was obvious that he'd had a rough time of it, and that he wasn't too far from collapse.

"They must have hit something big.  There was this high-pitched shriek, and then all the Selkath went crazy, killing and…"  He paused, shuddering at something only he could see.  "Eating."

Kirre made a decision.  "We'll scout the base out quickly for other survivors, then take the sub back to the surface for reinforcements."

The soldier shook his head.  "We can't.  There's something out there - the last sub - we could hear them screaming on the comm."

Carth exchanged glances with Kirre over the man's head.  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Kirre said finally.

The man refused to come with them, insisting he'd rather stay and guard the submersible, and Carth couldn't blame him.  He wasn't particularly looking forward to exploring this place himself.

Jolee moved through the door, his eyes alert.  Kirre, about to follow, paused and looked back at Carth.

"Maybe you'd better stay here too," she suggested neutrally.  He got the implication, though - that she figured he wasn't good enough with a blade to be more than a burden.

He pushed past her into the hall, unclipping the vibroblade from his belt.

It felt a little odd in his hands, and he tried to remember the last time he'd used one.  It had been on the Ender Spire, during a practice bout with one of Bastila's Jedi assistants.  He hadn't exactly won.

They fought their way down several long corridors filled with automated droids, easily dispatching the mechanical sentries.  Kirre fought with a grim determination, and even in the dim lighting Carth could tell she wasn't faring so well.

He figured it was the water.  To an old spacer like himself, water or space made no difference - if you found yourself outside, you died.

The first half dozen rooms were empty except for gnawed corpses.  The seventh was an observation room from the looks of the huge plastiglass window that took up most of one side.  Dark shapes patrolled outside, cutting through the water with a lethal grace.

"Firaxa sharks," Jolee said grimly. They were huge, easily three times as large as a man.  Carth studied them for a moment, wondering what exactly creatures like that ate.

A sudden shot rang out behind him, searing past his shoulder to slam into the window.  A network of cracks blossomed, and as he watched, water began seeping through.  He did the only sensible thing he could do.

He spun on one heel and bolted for the nearest door.  A horde of Selkath, eyes full of rage, poured in through it, and he swerved past Kirre towards the third door, the farthest from the door they'd entered by and the nearest to the window.

The window buckled and collapsed under the pressure.  The lights flickered and went out as a wave of water flooded in and he was nearly yanked off his feet.

Dropping the vibroblade, he made a desperate lunge for the door frame and caught it with one hand.  For a second he thought his grip would slip, and then he steadied.  He swung around, reaching out towards Kirre, who was struggling to keep her balance in the rapidly rising water.

The heavy Echani armor she wore pulled her down, and she hit the water hard.

Kirre vanished under the water, dragged down by her armor, and for an instant his heart flipped as he knew she'd been dragged out into the open water.  Her head suddenly broke through the spray, and she flung her arm out.  He lunged, stretching as far as he could.

His hand closed around her wrist, and he heaved, ignoring the twinge from his injured shoulder. Across the water, he could see Jolee in the outer corridor, trying to close the door they'd come in through as the Selkath swarmed towards him.

For an instant the water threatened to wrench Kirre from his grasp, and then she was past him, hauling him through the door and hitting the control to close it.

As the door cycled shut he sagged against the wall next to it, panting.  She had her eyes closed, and she leaned against the control panel as if she might fall down without it.

A quick glance around the room showed they were in some sort of prep room.  A changing room opened off to one side, across from a small airlock, and a half dozen empty alcoves designed for enviro-suits dotted the walls.  The last alcove's enviro-suit was still present.

There was a medical slab against the fourth wall next to a sealed security door, and not much else.  Incongruously, a folded blanket sat neatly on the end of the medical slab.

"Great," he said, closing his eyes briefly.  He opened them just in time to catch the questioning look she shot his way.  "It's silent," he pointed out, scrubbing a hand across his face.  "The generator's gone offline."

Dawning comprehension filled her face, along with fear, quickly hidden.  "With the power off, the security doors won't open," she said.

Carth did some quick calculations in his head.

"We've got about fifteen hours of air in here," he said.

She nodded, then pulled herself to her feet.  "And we're trapped."

It was not a question.


	2. Surrender

Kirre disappeared into the changing room while he spread his jacket and shirt on the floor next to his boots to dry out a little.  The burn on his shoulder wasn't deep, more like a shallow scrape than a gash, and it wasn't bleeding, so he did his best to ignore it.

He was tinkering with the enviro-suit when she reappeared, looking drier and a lot less bedraggled, and carrying her armor.  Her hair was down, and she'd slicked it straight back out of her face, although it was starting to curl at the ends as it dried around her shoulders.

"It's working, but there's only a half charge on the battery and the comm unit is pretty beat up," he said, looking up and trying not to notice the way her wet shirt clung to her body when she bent over to set her armor on the floor next to his jacket.  "It should be enough for a quick trip to reset the generator and back."

He hoped, anyway.   If the suit had seen a lot of use, the charge might not hold as long as he thought it would - but that was the hand they'd been dealt, and he intended to make the most of it.

"Yes," she agreed, and started towards it. "I'm better at computers, and I'm smaller, so I use less air.  I'll go."

"Whoa, sweetheart," he said, holding up a hand.  "If you think I'm letting you go out there while I sit around doing nothing, you've got another think coming."

She looked like she was about to argue, and then sagged, looking defeated.

"I don't think I can face going out there anyway," she said, looking suddenly weary, and sat down on the med slab.  He climbed to his feet and padded over, stopping a few feet away.

Her face was drawn and pinched, her eyes tired, and it occurred to him that he hadn't seen her sleep for more than a half hour at a stretch since they left Kashyyk.

"Neither one of us has to," he said abruptly.  "With his skills, Jolee will be able to get those doors open and come get us.  We just have to wait."

He'd let her fall asleep first, and then she wouldn't have to argue.  He owed her that much for Taris.

She smiled, suddenly, one of those wry, lopsided smiles that seemed to go right under his skin. "Sounds good to me."  She slid over a little, making room on the med-slab.  He hesitated.

"I don't bite," she said, looking up at him through long, dark lashes, her eyes veiled.  He'd never seen her with her hair down before, he realized.  She always had it pulled back in a tight, severe bun, a style that highlighted the sharpness of her cheekbones and chin.  He liked it this way- it made her look softer, more approachable.

"You could have fooled me," he said half-jokingly, but she didn't respond with her usual tart retort.  The lack of hostility was starting to worry him.  He sat down next to her on the slab, careful not to touch her.

"At least we still have light," she said, apparently not noticing his reluctance as she glanced around, rubbing her hands over her bare arms.  As if in response to her words, the lights flickered and then dimmed to emergency level.

Kirre sighed, a long, almost soundless exhalation that seemed to slice through the near darkness.  It was starting to get cold in here, and without power it was only going to get colder.

Carth hesitated, and then picked up the blanket, draping it over her shoulders with what he hoped was workmanlike efficiency.

"Whoa, pal," she said, and he started to groan.  What could she possibly find to argue about now? "If you think I'm going to huddle under this blanket while you freeze to death, you've got another think coming."

His jaw dropped slightly.  "Did you just crack a joke?" he asked, needing the confirmation, and she scowled, although her eyes were light.

It reminded him, oddly enough, of when they'd first worked together on Taris.  She had been open, fiery, ready to dive into trouble for the sake of an innocent or tell him off if he deserved it.

Since the incident on Kashyyk, she had been quieter, as if she were evaluating every word, every expression, before allowing herself to use it.

"No, I am utterly serious," she said, one corner of her full mouth twitching slightly, and offered him a corner of the blanket.

He nodded, then awkwardly settled down next to her on the slab.  It took them a few minutes of shifting to determine that the blanket just wasn't big enough for the both of them.

Carth took a deep breath and let it out silently.  He could be the better man about this, he told himself, and slid back towards the head of the slab, propping the foam pillow up as a barrier against the metal wall.

It was Kirre's turn to hesitate, and then she scooted backwards, settling between his legs and draping the blanket over both of them.

She fit just as neatly as he'd thought she would, the top of her head resting easily just under his chin.  Even after being dunked in the ocean her hair smelled sweet.

He sternly reminded himself that she didn't trust him and, more importantly, that he didn't trust her.  And he didn't like her much, either.  He was pretty certain of it.

Her shivers quickly stopped as the heat between them warmed the blanket.  He hesitated again.  "You don't like the water," he said, and could have kicked himself.  Nice and subtle, Onasi, he scolded himself, and waited for the biting retort he figured he deserved.

 She didn't say anything for a moment, then nodded, the movement brushing the tips of her hair against the bare skin of his chest.  He silently gritted his teeth and waited patiently for her to speak if she would.

"I have this dream, or maybe - maybe it's a memory," she said at last.  She paused for a moment, as if expecting a smart remark, and he winced inside.  He hadn't been that hard on her, had he?  It was just that she was so young, and so ready to help, even people who would just take advantage of the chance to kick her in the teeth.

"I guess I must have been a kid," she said, a half-smile creeping into her voice.  "I keep seeing this old quarry, the kind your parents tell you to stay away from, but you don't."

He somehow didn't have any trouble picturing her as a brash ten year old, her dark red hair in braids and her green eyes filled with mischief instead of sorrow.

"In my dream, the water is so dark," she said quietly.  "I can't breathe, and I can't see, and I know there is something waiting for me at the bottom - something evil and ancient, and it wants to devour me - but I can't see it."

He couldn't see her face, but he felt the shudder that ran through her.  She was so self-contained, wound so tightly that he half-feared that if he touched her she would shatter.  And, he admitted to himself at last, he wanted to touch her.  He tried to banish the thought and the guilt that accompanied it.

She twisted around in his arms, and he brought them up around her to steady them both.  Her face was only a few inches from his, and her eyes were clear and dark, haunted by something only she could see.

"I can still feel it, waiting for me out there in the dark," she said, her voice strained, and he wanted to promise that he wouldn't let it have her, and that everything would be all right.

The look in her eyes changed, subtly, and he knew, as clearly as if she'd spoken, what she was thinking.

It had been four years since he'd held his wife while she died, four years of guilt, four years of denying that he was still human.  She was so close, right now.  He told himself that it was just a physical thing, that he could find comfort and release in her arms and walk away in the morning.

If there was a morning.

He shut his eyes, shutting her out.  She deserved better than a last fling with a man like him, he thought miserably, knowing that as soon as she slept, he was going out into the darkness.  To his surprise, soft lips pressed against his.

He fought not to react, but it was a losing battle.

She was so strong and tough, and yet brave enough to show her heart when it mattered.  Her compassion was endless, yet she'd never forced it on him.  She'd saved his life and offered him her friendship, and hadn't asked for anything in return, not even his trust.

He'd been fighting her subtle invasion of his soul since Taris, and he just couldn't continue fighting a battle he didn't want to win anymore.  He opened his eyes.

She drew back, looking uncertain, her eyes bright.  "I'm sorry," she started, obviously fumbling for words, "You looked so-"

He smiled slowly, wolfishly down at her.  "You win," he said, and gathered her into his arms again for a passionate kiss.


	3. Sacrifice

The first thing he became aware of as he slowly surfaced from sleep was the urge to stretch.  The second was that he was alone on the med-slab.

He sat up, throwing the blanket off as he desperately scanned the room.  Her clothes were missing, except for the neat pile of her armor, her lightsaber resting on top.

The enviro-suit was gone.

The low whoosh of the airlock cycling hit his ears, and he bolted over to the door.  

He could see her through the tiny window as the water rushed in to fill the airlock.  It was already waist deep, swirling around the enviro-suit's tool belt, and he smashed his fist against the window, knowing she couldn't hear anything over the churning water.

Somehow, she heard.  She turned, slowly, her normal grace hampered by the bulky suit.  He could see her face behind the tinted faceplate.  Her expression was gentle, and in her eyes were mingled sorrow and pity.

"Damn you," he said, his voice rough.  "Don't you feel sorry for me - don't you dare," he shouted, and smashed his hand against the glass again.  It held, and he splayed his fingers against the glass, his eyes stinging.

Clumsily, she raised one hand and pressed her fingers flat against his, as if she could somehow feel him through the glass, even as the water lapped around the faceplate and then closed over her head, filling the chamber completely.  His eyes held hers, pleading, as the outer door opened behind her.

She closed her eyes, briefly, and then turned and walked out into the darkness.

***

Kirre took a deep breath, feeling naked despite the bulky suit.  She could feel the pressure of the water all around her, trying to crush her in its cold, impersonal way, and it took her a few moments to make her legs carry her forward.

She kept her head down as she slogged across the ocean floor, trying not to see the expression on his face.  He would understand when she got back, she hoped, that she had to do this, had to prove to herself that she could face the darkness and survive.

The ground was relatively flat, and she stayed in the station's shadow as much as she could.  It was utterly quiet as she rounded the curve of the dome and the utter darkness of the valley floor opened before her.

She switched on the enviro-suit's light and a beam shot out, illuminating a dozen yards in front of her.  The Rift was straight ahead, and a quick glance at her air meter display showed that she didn't have time to waste.

Her spine tingled as she left the safety of the station's shadow.  Soon enough it vanished behind her, leaving her alone in the circle of light from her suit.

The darkness pressed inward, and she swallowed, hard, knowing her feelings were irrational, yet unable to ignore them.  It was waiting for her out in the darkness, waiting to devour her, and the suit was so damn heavy she could barely move.

It hit her, all at once, a wave of terror that froze her muscles and rooted her feet into place.  She suddenly knew that she just couldn't move one step deeper into that unending darkness, even as she realized that she had no choice.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then willed her feet to move.  Her foot lifted, mechanically, then came back down again in a single step.  Now the other, she thought grimly, and took another step.  The suit's light flickered, and the terror choked her again.

Oh, no, not in the dark, please, no, her mind babbled, terrified, and she fought for control.  I am a Jedi, she thought fiercely.  I will not be defeated by myself.  She forced herself to move another step, and then she stumbled in the loose silt.

She hit the ground hard enough to bite her tongue, and for a moment she saw stars.   The darkness surged again, battering past her resistance as if it weren't even there, and she sagged to the ground.  She hurt, all over, and she was so tired.  She just couldn't keep going.

"I'm sorry, Carth," she said softly, the guilt bitter in her throat.

"Don't apologize, get up and move," a familiar voice crackled over the comm, startling her.

"Carth?" she asked incredulously, already heaving herself to her feet.

"I'm not as dumb as I look, sweetheart, and you are in so much trouble," came the curt reply, and she grinned.  "But we'll talk about that later." His voice, scratchy over the comm, promised mayhem, and she couldn't help a quick retort.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" she asked archly, taking a deep breath as she looked around at the darkness.  It somehow seemed a lot less oppressive, as if the presence that lurked had withdrawn from the sound of his voice.  

"Just keep your head up and your feet moving, and get that generator back up," he ordered, and she could do nothing but comply.  She could still feel the darkness watching, but it couldn't touch her now.

Stubbornly, she kept moving, following his instructions to keep her head up so that the light would illuminate as far as possible, her eyes searching the darkness for danger.  Somehow, knowing she wasn't alone made all the difference.

The gleam of metal caught her eye; the frame of a massive harvester, skeletal in the harsh light of her suit's beam.  Several of the rig's struts were twisted and dented, although the cockpit looked relatively unscathed.

"Something out here doesn't like the harvester," she said, and Carth was silent for a long moment.

"If whatever got the last sub was disturbed by that thing," he started, and she finished the thought for him.

"Then if we destroy it, whatever it is might go away?"

She didn't have to see him to see the grim expression on his face or the sharp nod that accompanied his next words.

"Do it," he said flatly, "After you get the generator back up."

A man-sized console lay just beyond the harvester, and behind that, the dome of the generator, built flush against the side of the Rift, rose towards the surface.

"I see the generator," she reported, and forced her leaden feet to move towards the console.  The edge of the Rift was perilously close, only a few feet to her left, while a faint path led between the console and the generator.

"Good girl," came back over the comm. "Do your stuff, and let's get you out of there."  Was it her imagination, or was there a trace of worry underlying the confidence in his voice?

Her fingers were clumsy in the gloves, built for a much larger person, and it took her a couple of tries to activate the console.

From there it was a simple matter for her to initiate a full reboot, and as her fingers left the keyboard she almost sagged with relief.  She risked a quick glance at the time readout.  Barely a half hour had passed so far - she had plenty of time.  Her eyes flicked over to the air gauge, and she froze.

"The lights just came back on, sweetheart, now blow the rig and get that Jedi backside of yours back in here," Carth's voice crackled over the comm.

She had seven minutes of air left.

***

"Kirre, you have to start now.  It's a long way back," Carth said, his knuckles white around the comm's handset.

The lights were back on, and he could hear the security door powering up.  He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the half mile of Selkath-infested tunnels back to the docking bay, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when she was safely back inside.

There was nothing but static for a long moment, and then the comm crackled into life.

"I guess sometimes there's just not enough time," she said softly.  Her voice sounded hollow, and he didn't like what he heard in it.

"You can still make it," he started, his voice starting to shake.  Screw the harvester, someone else could go back out there later.  "It's not that far to the nearest dome."  He'd done the calculations - she was smaller than he was, she had a chance, if she just hurried.

"Tell Mission…" she started, then paused, and he could hear the resignation in her voice when she spoke again.  "Don't let them grieve for me."

"No, honey, you can't give up, you have to try," he said desperately.  "Damnit, Kirre, don't do this-"

"Goodbye, Carth," she said, and the comm went dead.

***

Kirre stood with her back against the console, facing towards the Rift.  She could still feel it down there, waiting, but it no longer terrified her.

When she had first turned the suit's light off, the darkness had seemed absolute.

Slowly, however, faint traces of light had filtered in, and, while it was as dark as night, she could make out the shadowy bulk of the generator and the darkness of the Rift below.

She had cried a little while she set the self-destruct timer on the rig, but the tears had dried up quickly.  Some part of her was glad she had had the chance to help save him, but mostly she simply felt empty.

She couldn't really believe that she was destined to die here, at the bottom of an alien ocean, while those she loved waited for her to return in vain.

She could still smell his scent on her skin, and it hurt that she wouldn't have the chance to tell him how she really felt - but she couldn't bear to force him to listen to her die, no matter how much it terrified her to die alone.

It seemed to her that she had always been alone, in one way or another, since she had first woken up on the Ender Spire without a memory, without a past.  She hid it behind action, but inside she felt hollow.

The suit's recycler was starting to wheeze.  She took a deep breath, one of the last, she knew, and stepped off into the Rift.

The bulky suit slowed her descent, and she hit the plateau almost gently.  She could feel it waiting for her, somewhere up ahead, and she struck out blindly for it in the dark.

Her breathing sounded harsh and labored in her ears, and she found herself gulping for breath.  She was so close she could taste the dark taint of it, and a surge of anger propelled her another half dozen feet.

Dizziness crept up on her, and she stumbled over a rock, her arms wind-milling as she lost her balance.  She fell, hard, and her flailing hand connected with something that rang like metal.

A flare of light blinded her as the metal petals of the artifact opened like a flower, the black orb highlighted with gold fire levitating through the water.  It hovered for a moment and then rivulets of gold spread across its surface as it shattered into a thousand points of light and then bloomed into the great sphere of a Star Map.

The respirator stopped, the sudden silence almost deafening.  Kirre lay where she had fallen, bathed in the radiance of the ancient artifact, the blood pounding in her ears as black spots started to appear before her eyes.

Abruptly, the Star Map winked out, and she was plunged into darkness once more.

It didn't matter; she thought she could see his face in the darkness, and she was glad that his eyes, and not the Star Map, would be the last thing she ever saw.

"Carth…" she whispered, and the dark claimed her.


	4. Regrets

He surged out of the water of the docking bay, staggering under the weight of the enviro-suit and his burden.   He kicked off the booster pack, throwing himself off balance, and half-fell against the sub. 

Without the added weight, he managed to use the sub as leverage to hoist them out of the water and onto the dock.

She was terribly still.  He couldn't see her face through the polarized faceplate, and his heart contracted as he struggled with the fastenings of her helmet.  Jolee pushed him away, using expertise and ungloved fingers to work on the clips.

Carth fumbled with his own helmet, dropping it without a second thought as he stripped off his gloves and shrugged off the heavy suit.

Her helmet's seals broke and Jolee lifted it off, her hair, matted with dirt and sweat, tumbling free.  Carth went down on his knees next to her, cradling her head as the Jedi unsealed her suit and checked her vitals.

"C'mon, sweetheart, it's not your time," Carth said under his breath, searching her face.  She had a nasty gash over her left eye.  Her eyes were closed, her lips blue, and again his heart wrenched.  There was panic in his eyes when he looked across her body at Jolee.

"It's been too long," he said, his voice cold, and the guilt tore through him like flame.  If he hadn't given in to his loneliness, she wouldn't have had the chance to go out there, and she would still be alive. His fault, he thought, his.

It had taken him too long to make it through the tunnels, too long to get into the second suit, too long to find her.  Even with the booster, he hadn't been in time.

"It takes more than a few minutes without air to kill a Jedi," Jolee snapped curtly.  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he seemed to relax.

The hair on Carth's arms and neck stood up as he felt the tingling along his skin, like a near miss by a blaster bolt.

For a long moment nothing happened, and the guilt washed over him again. Abruptly, her eyes flew open as her back arched, a startled gasp forced from her lungs as they began to work again and the color rapidly returned to her cheeks.  Carth felt his jaw drop.

Kirre looked up at him without recognition for an instant, a cold, alien look on her face, and he almost recoiled.  It was gone as quickly as it had been, and her eyes were her own again.

She didn't say anything, just looked up at him with those radiant green eyes, and then they drifted closed again.

"She'll be fine, so you can stop worrying like a mother hen," Jolee said crossly.  "Any chance we can leave this fish trap now?"

***

The trip back up to the surface was slow and uneventful.  Jolee had taken over the sub's controls, the rescued Republic mercenary serving as co-pilot.  Carth folded himself into the back, Kirre cradled in his arms.

She slept through the ascent, and Carth found himself to be, to his disgust, relieved.  As the water lightened around them, he found his old doubts returning, and he didn't like what that told him about himself.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, and he almost reached out to her, almost brushed the hair from her forehead.  He let his hand drop, and he wished with all his soul that things could have been different.


	5. Retreat

"I'm fine, Mission, stop fussing!" Kirre's voice floated from the medical bay of the Ebon Hawk.  Canderous, who was working on the swoop bike in the swoop hangar, muffled a snicker.

"Well, if you wouldn't do such stupid things, me and Big Z wouldn't have to worry so much!" the higher voice of the Twi'lek teenager retorted.

There were rustling sounds, as of someone getting dressed, and then Kirre, wearing a grey Jedi robe and sporting a synth-bandage across one temple, trotted out into the swoop hangar.

She hesitated for a moment, and Canderous jerked a thumb towards the off-ramp.  She flashed him a grin and headed out.

He sincerely hoped, for Carth's sake, that the pilot didn't do anything to disappoint her.

***

Kirre saw his booted feet first, sticking out from under the hyperdrive.  The lifter swayed slightly as a hand emerged and accepted a spanner from T3-M4, who was whirring as if this was the most fun it had had all week.

Come to think of it, it probably was, she reflected.  She started to reach out, and then hesitated as a sudden wave of shyness overwhelmed her.  He'd saved her life, after all, and before that, he'd shown her his heart.

And a few other interesting parts of himself, too, she thought, surprising herself with her own archness.

It's Carth, for crying out loud, she told herself, he's saved your life before.  Yeah, a wayward part of her mind responded, but he never held you in his arms before and meant it.

She reached out and gave his foot a playful push.

A muffled yelp followed by the sound of a head striking the bottom of a space cruiser made her wince.  He caught the underside of the Hawk with both hands and used it as leverage to push the lifter out from under the ship.

"Thanks a lot," Carth said sourly, rubbing his forehead, where a pale red mark was fading.

Kirre found the shyness tripping her up again.  She told herself she was being ridiculous - he was the same person he was two days ago, as was she.  Of course, two days ago she'd thought he hated her, or at the best, thought her useless and dangerous.

And he hadn't seen her naked, either.

He looked over at her, and the expression of irritation faded.  The silence seemed to stretch into infinity, and he finally sighed, jamming a hand through his hair.  The spiky lock that she found so endearing fell back against his forehead, almost into his eyes, as if he hadn't even tried.

She'd noticed, the night before, that his eyes matched his hair almost exactly.  They were both a warm, rich chestnut.  She suddenly remembered the look in his eyes, inches from her own, as their bodies moved in union.

"Stop looking at me like that," he said, and she blinked.

"Like what?" Kirre could feel a flush rising into her cheeks.

"Like I'm some white knight here to rescue you or something," he said, his tone derisive, and she felt her cheeks flame even hotter.

She started to deny it, and then stopped.

"I can't help it," she said finally, honestly.  She owed him a lot more than honesty.  "You saved my life out there.  Again."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," he said dismissively, but she continued, the words slow and uneven, as if she were groping for exactly the right ones.

"It isn't just that," she said, and he froze.

"I don't remember much about my life before the Ender Spire, and I don't know if I ever," she hesitated for a moment, "really cared about anyone before."

She raised her eyes to meet his.  "All I have is right now," she said, "And I want my now to be with you."  She held his eyes with her own, and the utter lack of defenses within them hurt his heart.

He was the first to look away.

"It wouldn't work out between us, Frost," he said, hating himself.  "You're a Jedi, and I don't trust Jedi.  End of story."  He swung his feet around off the lifter, turning his back to her.

"So that's all I am to you, a Jedi?" she asked after a long silence, her voice controlled again, her emotions masked.  He shrugged his shoulders, then stepped down from the lifter.

"You can't deny how you feel," she said flatly, but her voice trembled ever so slightly.  "The things you said to me while we were-"  She swallowed hard.  "I know those weren't lies."

He turned around to look at her.

"I meant them at the time," he said coldly, and she winced as if he'd hit her.  Anger flared in her eyes, turning them to green flame, and he waited for her to say something cruel and walk away from him forever.

Abruptly, the anger fled, and he felt like screaming.  Why did she have to be so damn understanding, so damn patient?  He didn't need her help, and he didn't need her pity, and he definitely didn't need her.

"You wouldn't give up on me," she said softly.  "I won't give up on you." It was a promise that seemed to echo in the hangar as she walked away.

As the hangar doors closed behind her, T3-M4 gave a plaintive beep, and he scowled at it.  "It's better this way," he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway."

The droid's next beep sounded a lot like a derisive snort.


	6. Truce

They left Manaan as quietly as they'd arrived, the Ebon Hawk sliding off into the sky with the effortless grace she was made for.

Carth spent a lot of time in the cockpit, pulling extra shifts, and when he finally tumbled into his bunk each night he was tired enough that he didn't dream.  Much.

He avoided her as much as he could, and if the others noticed, they didn't say anything.  She didn't try to seek him out, just watched him with those calm, assessing eyes whenever he was in the room.

It made him feel hunted, and that made him angry.

He found himself, very late one night when sleep just wouldn't come, pacing around the swoop hangar impatiently.  He realized he was going in circles and forced himself to stop.

"Statement: The master enjoys sparring when she is unable to sleep," HK said, "Experience would suggest that an exhausted meatbag succumbs to sleep more easily than a rested one."

"You know, HK, it's a wonder you haven't been invited to join the Jedi yet with wisdom like that," Carth said under his breath.

"Query: Would you like to spar?"

Kirre usually practiced with the droid for a couple of hours each day, claiming it kept her on her toes.  He shrugged, finally.  "Why not?" he said, and accepted the offered sparring stick.

It took him a while to realize that the droid wasn't working to capacity.

"You're going easy on me?" he said, leaning on the stick, panting a little, as he sized up the droid.  "Nice of you."

"Statement: The master would be most displeased if you were to be damaged by accident," HK said unemotionally.  "I myself have no preference either way."

Carth had to shake himself.  For a moment there, he'd almost been flattered that the droid didn't want to kill him, as it seemed to want to kill almost everyone they encountered. "You know, HK, I think that was the nicest thing I've ever heard you say about anyone."

"Can't even handle a droid," a rumbling bass voice said from the aft hatch.  "Exactly what I would expect from a Republic coward."

Carth spun, stick up.  Canderous stalked through the doorway, obviously dressed for sleep.

"If I recall my history, we 'Republic cowards' handed you Mandalorians your asses during the last war," Carth said, his temper flaring.

Canderous grinned, an unpleasant sight.  "Then why don't you show me what you're capable of without a Jedi to hide behind," he suggested, and dropped into a fighting crouch.

Carth couldn't deny it.  He'd wanted this battle since they'd first met the Mandalorian on Taris, and he welcomed it.

They circled each other warily, each looking for a weakness to exploit.  Carth knew he was at least a half-dozen years younger than the other man, but Canderous had height and reach on him.

The Mandalorian swung a massive fist that, had it connected, would have laid him out for good.  Carth ducked, and came back with a swing of his own that whistled past the larger's man's face.

Canderous grinned again as he waded into the fray.  They moved around the bay, connecting as often as not, while the droid watched on impassively.

Carth felt his vision darkening as his endurance started to flag.  His legs were starting to feel like jelly, and the other man showed no signs of fatigue.

He spotted what he thought might be an opening, and took it, putting all of his weight behind him as he lunged forward and drove his shoulder into Canderous's gut.

The Mandalorian doubled over, and Carth brought his locked hands up to meet the other man's chin.  Only it didn't work out quite right.

Canderous somehow got an arm up in time to catch his wrist, then flipped him over onto his back on the cold steel floor of the hangar, hard enough to knock the air out of him completely.

The Mandalorian reached down and hauled Carth to his feet, then held him up by the front of his shirt.

The room was spinning, he could taste blood from his split lip, and he could feel one hell of a bruise starting around his left eye.

With blood trickling out of his nose and  a nasty looking gash across one cheekbone, Canderous didn't look much better, but he didn't seem to notice his injuries.

"You're a fool, Republic," he grated out, and slammed Carth against the bulkhead.  The room was starting to go dark around the edges.

"Why she wants you, I'll never know."  Another impact with the bulkhead, and then he was dropped unceremoniously to the deck.

When the stars cleared, he was alone.

Wearily, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered back to his quarters.  He didn't bother to clean up, just collapsed backwards onto his bunk with a low exhalation of pain.

He derived a small measure of satisfaction from the knowledge that the Mandalorian would be hurting just as badly as he was tomorrow.  A very small measure.

He barely registered the door to his quarters cycling open again, and groaned.  "I know you haven't come to finish me off, because that would be a mercy at this point," he pointed out to the ceiling.

"Flyboy, you are a mess," a gentle voice said, and cool hands brushed the hair away from his heated forehead and gently explored the bruise around his eye.  His nose relayed the faint scent of Dantooine orchids to his spinning mind.

He winced, but couldn't quite make himself insist that she leave.

"You are such a baby," she scolded. "That didn't hurt at all."

"Hey," he said, trying not to move his lips too much, "Which one of us is feeling this, anyway?"

She snorted, most impolitely.  He closed his eyes, the faint rustle of cloth echoing in his ears for a moment, and then she stretched out on top of him.

"What are you-" he started, eyes flying open, and she put a finger to his lips.

"Ancient Jedi healing technique," she said solemnly, and he discovered that it hurt when he laughed, even a little.

He closed his eyes until the worst of it passed and then cracked open an eye to find himself staring into her green ones.

"You knew the charge on that enviro-suit wouldn't hold," she said, and it wasn't a question.   "You knew that you wouldn't be coming back."

He couldn't deny it, and she suddenly looked frustrated, and very, very human.

"I hate you," she said, and kissed him.

**************************************

I finally have something to write an author's note about! ::dances with glee::  I'm putting it down here so it hopefully doesn't distract from the story too much.

Okay, here goes:

Thank you for the kind reviews! J

Daeana: I can't figure out why I only have two reviews either.  ::looks all modest and stuff::  I think it probably has something to do with ff.net not archiving my story into the search engine properly.  That *must* be it.

Krazed Kaioshin Fangirl:  I picture Carth as tougher than I usually see him portrayed, because I figure that not only has he had pretty poor luck in the personal life department, he's also a soldier and a war hero.  Plus he has trust issues.  *Serious* trust issues.  But I think it just makes him sexier. ;)


	7. Turmoil

Well, I have to apologize.

I honestly thought I could write a complete fanfic, but it seems I was wrong. I don't know if I just 'fell out of love' with KOTOR, or with fanfic in general, but it seems like I just have no appetite left for it. I am a fickle, fickle wench, and I have learned now not to publish what I can't finish.

I did write a few more chapters back in March, actually bringing the story to something of a close, but the stuff I ended up with just wasn't KOTOR. It deviated so sharply from the main story that I just don't feel it does the characters justice, no matter how sexy and dramatic I think it was.

I'll try to upload the last few chapters I've written, or if anyone would like to take over, contact me?

Sol

-----------------------------

****

She didn't stay. She wanted to, but she knew he was in no shape to pursue matters. She opened herself to the Force and let it heal him, and then she watched over him, the lines around his eyes and mouth smoothing as he gave his cares over, temporarily, to sleep.

Kirre envied him, a little - she couldn't pull the same trick on herself.

The next morning, when he wandered out into the mess room, she was eating a synthesized fruit and talking with Juhani about the star maps. She fell silent as he entered.

She felt shy and awkward around him again, suddenly. She quickly excused herself and fled, mumbling something about checking in on Mission and Zaalbar in the cockpit.

Instead, she headed straight for the engine room. She didn't know why, but the steady hum reassured her, somehow, made her feel at home. She wondered, for the hundredth time, if perhaps she had been born and raised on a spaceship.

"You feel safe here," Bastila said from behind her. Kirre smiled slightly.

"Yes, I suppose I do," she said, turning to face the other Jedi. "I don't know why, but it feels like home."

Bastila studied her face intently, searching for some sign of - what?

"Why are you afraid of me?" Kirre blurted out, unsure where the insight came from, but once it was out in the open, certain of it.

Bastila recoiled, drawing herself up in a huff. "Afraid of you? Of course not."

Kirre stared at her. "You're lying," she said slowly, again unsure of where her knowledge came from, but certain of its veracity.

"You've been spending too much time with that paranoid spacer," Bastila said curtly, dismissively, and Kirre could feel her cheeks flush. Bastila was on it in an instant.

"Oh, you didn't," she said, aghast, a look of such horror on her face that Kirre winced.

"I know love isn't the Jedi way," she said defensively. "I won't let the situation get out of hand." Her preternatural insight seemed to desert her as quickly as it arrived, and she kept her head down as she slipped past the other Jedi.

"It's far too late for that," Bastila said, behind her, and she pretended not to hear as she fled towards her quarters.


End file.
